When you first encounter Damian Buchman, he looks like any other normally-functioning, perfectly healthy 34-year-old man in the prime of his life.

But outward appearances cannot possibly tell you the full story of Buchman's life, because according to the so-called "experts" he isn't even supposed to be alive. Nothing short of a medical miracle, Buchman was supposed to have died from a rare form of bone cancer some 20 years ago.

And yet, sitting in a Starbucks across from Mayfair Mall just days before his 35th birthday, I realize that there are few people that I will encounter in life that are more alive and vibrant than the tireless driving force behind an effort to bring Milwaukee something that just doesn't exist anywhere else in the country.

"There will be a 200-meter interior track, six basketball courts that convert into 12 volleyball courts, a 25-meter, six-lane competition pool along with a therapy pool," Buchman says. "It also has one second level that has about 40,000 square feet of fitness."

Another ordinary health club? Hardly.

Like Damian Buchman, there is nothing ordinary about this vision and passion. What Buchman has been endlessly campaigning for is support for a fitness and sports facility designed specifically for the disabled that will be called "The Ability Center."

Later this month Buchman will start the formal public campaign launch to raise the money necessary to construct his vision that began six years ago, but had its roots planted many years before that.

Damian Buchman's personal story is a remarkable one of perseverance and beating the odds. 18 years ago, two days before his 13th birthday, he was diagnosed with a rare and deadly form of bone cancer in his legs. One year after his initial diagnosis, "they told my mom that I was not going to make it," Buchman recalls. "They said 'we can keep him comfortable, but you should take him home and let him pass in peace. There's no point in even treating him.'"

So much for that. Buchman has been cancer free since June 1993. And while he admits that the chemotherapy possibly could shorten his life someday, today he is healthy and he views every day as a blessing. But even though Buchman is cancer-free, his fight came at a price. And while he emerged from it, he did not do so unscathed.

"From my cancer I have two totally replaced metal knees, which doesn't sound like a lot, but they replaced literally everything in there," Buchman says. "Not just the joint, but the bone, the muscle, ligaments, tendons, the femur, the tibia, everything. I've got metal, plastic, cadaver parts all over both of my legs. I've had 20 knee replacements and revisions since I was 13. Every day, every step I have taken since I was 14 has been painful. Dreadfully painful? No, not necessarily, but painful enough that you notice it. It's not forgettable."

Still, it certainly beat the alternative.

In 2006, Buchman started an organization called "Super Gimp Services" for disabled athletics. That planted the seed in his head that the status quo simply wasn't going to cut it any longer.

"It started by making fun of people with Superman tattoos," Buchman begins. "I thought that was kind of conceded to making fun of my own disability and combining the two into 'Super Gimp.' What we found was that it brought a lot of inspiration to kids with cancer and other disabilities at a camp I went to. It game them inspiration, empowerment, motivation, etc. Super Gimp is all about can, not can't. That's really what the vision is."

But as Buchman ventured out to find locations to run sports and fitness for people at that time with physical disabilities, he couldn't find any location available or one that was even accessible. Because of that, Super Gimp kind of went to the wayside because Buchman didn't know what to do or where to go.

"The summer of 2009 I connected with a gentleman at (Waukesha) Catholic Memorial High School by the name of John Burke, who runs their top-rated soccer program," Buchman remembers.

"My niece and nephew, both being on the autism spectrum were part of his top soccer program. And he was running into the same thing. The high school basketball team missed a practice at their normal time, so they took the one hour he had in the gym and had to move his kids to the cafeteria or somewhere else just to give them a program. God forbid any of the able-bodied kids have to miss a practice.

"John and I had the same feeling. If we are going to grow this program, we are going to need a place to do that. So he and I were on the same road, maybe on a different spectrum, but we both needed a facility. Neither one of us was about to quit on these kids or our mission, but we needed a place to provide these programs."

From that, the concept of The Ability Center was born.

Buchman's dream comes at a steep price, but is an investment he feels can benefit everyone in the community, whether someone is confined to a wheelchair or not. As the plans have been drawn up, the facility will cost between $20 and $25 million and be constructed somewhere near the Milwaukee County Medical Complex chiefly because of the accessibility of public transportation there.

Buchman's plans do not currently call for annual fundraising efforts because of the design of both the building and the business model he is developing.

"By including the able-bodied public, The Ability Center is designed to be self-sustainable," Buchman says. "While everything is designed for the disabled person, we welcome the able-bodied to join our center as well. It's much easier to ask the able-bodied to live in a disabled world than the other way around.

"Once we raise the $20-$25 million for construction, all of the membership fees, league fees, registration fees, tournament fees, concession sales, everything will turn into programs and financial assistance for those with disabilities," Buchman adds.

In an era when conscious consumerism is higher than it has ever been (think fair-trade coffee and buying recycled printer paper), Buchman thinks his concept can tap into current purchasing trends.

"When people come to The Ability Center, able-bodied or not, they can feel good that the activity fee they are paying isn't going into someone's pocket, but rather turning into full access for everybody out there, disabled or not," Buchman says.

Buchman has received support from numerous sports organizations through their inclusion programs. "The United States Tennis Association is helping us bring wheelchair tennis into the schools," Buchman says. "This month I will be meeting with the National Wheelchair Basketball Association out in Colorado while I am playing is a national wheelchair tournament. We have had Paul Schulte, who is a paralympian, reach out to the U.S. Paralympics organization.

"We have reached out to the Special Olympics," Buchman continues. "I cannot imagine that they aren't in the same position I have been in trying to get sports for people with physical disabilities. I mean, who couldn't use more gym space? We have reached out to the YMCA and they have reached out to us. The Y would be interested in running some programs in this facility."

Not long ago, Buchman and his wife of three years, Bo, have also begun the process of adopting children to grow their family. Since Damian's intensive chemotherapy when he was a child, he lost the ability to conceive naturally. Undaunted, he and the pediatric oncologist nurse he met at a camp for kids with cancer seven years ago say they want to raise between 2-4 children.

All the while the Buchman's are readying themselves to become parents; the construction phase of The Ability Center is also at the front of his mind. But even using a best-case scenario shovel will not hit dirt for at least 18 months.

In the meantime, Buchman and Burke are also spearheading the effort to bring wheelchair athletes and interscholastic athletics in high schools together.

"This would be the first-ever, fully inclusive team sport affiliated with a school," Buchman says, adding that by fully-inclusive, able-bodied students would be able to play wheelchair sports alongside their classmates confined by their disability.

"Kids would have the ability to play a team sport, play for the spirit of their school, and letter in up to three sports per year," Buchman says. "Just like their able-bodied classmates."

Eventually, Buchman would like to open four sports and fitness centers in the four corners of the country. But of course, he needs to launch the first one here before he branches out before any thoughts of expansion would be put in a blueprint on his desk.

We're not looking to reinvent the wheel," Buchman concludes. "We are looking to provide space so it is truly accessible to all."